


give me proper credit

by elegantstupidity



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Cyberpunk, F/F, Femslash, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/pseuds/elegantstupidity
Summary: For a family whose motto was, “If you can’t hold it in your hands, what’s the point of stealing it?” Debbie thought she was doing pretty well in this post-material world. Of course, it helped to have a good partner-in-crime at her side.





	give me proper credit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gloss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/gifts).



> Thanks to Madonna for the bop that is "Material Girl," which is where I got this fic's title.

It was a point of pride amongst the Oceans that they did their dirty work without help from cybernetics, or technology in general. There were few enough physical locks, with pins and tumblers, left in the world, but that didn’t mean Debbie hadn’t learned to pick them all by the time she was streaming her middle school lessons. While so many of her friends were being gifted with enhancements or new hardware for their birthdays, Debbie got a watch that she was told she could keep only when she successfully stole it off her mother, father, and older brother. 

For a family whose motto was, “If you can’t hold it in your hands, what’s the point of stealing it?” this distrust of the intangible, everything all coded up in ones and zeros and faith, was only natural. Then again, it wasn’t as if the natural got much trust nowadays, either.

Of course, Danny hadn’t been so scrupulous when he assembled his crews, and ever the adoring little sister, Debbie couldn’t see much point in it either.

Leaning against the brick building beside her, looking perfectly inconspicuous in her tattered jeans and leather jacket, Lou squinted in that way that Debbie knew meant she was shifting into her tele-lenses, no doubt to better observe their mark.

“See anything?” she murmured, careful not to seem too interested in the couple of Upcity characters who’d decided their thrill for the night would be slumming it down here in the Market.

There wasn’t a single part of these two men that looked at home among the stalls and jumble of humanity. Sure, they’d worn their artfully distressed clothes with subtle, but flashy enough to anyone with a trained eye, tech boosts and toned down the high sheen of the chrome set into their wrist comps, but they were too clean, too curious, too raw to believably belong. The Market was the domain of the downtrodden, the underhanded, the vicious, or some combination of all three.

These men weren’t it.

And that was what made them the perfect targets to relieve of some of that flash, and maybe only most of their savings if they were very, very good.

They could’ve had a perfectly entertaining night linked into that new Daphne Kluger vid or shelling out creds to fake-kill one another in whatever new game had taken over the Arc and kept hold of their credit accounts while they were at it. But no, they’d had to be rebels. Had to prove they were tough enough to hang with Market crowds.

Well, Debbie could certainly show them tough.

Lou sighed. “We’re certainly not the only ones scoping them out.” She nodded across the crowded space. Sure enough, loitering far too casually in one of the chem-IX stalls, were two familiar goons, each too big for their own good and the rations plan they were supposedly on. They’d muscled in on Lou and Debbie’s last three scores, as well as a big payout from last week.

Like hell was she gonna let it happen again.

“You know the plan?” she asked, pushing off the wall and into the crowd.

On her heels, Lou rolled her eyes, the brief flash of red the only indicator that she was anything other than fully biologic.

“Honey, the plan never changes.”

“Baby,” Debbie threw back, along with a look over her shoulder at her partner in crime, “that’s the beauty of it.”

Before she could turn back around and continue straight for her mark, Lou’s unnaturally strong hand closed around her wrist. Her momentum carried her as far forward as her arm would stretch, before she was bouncing back into Lou.

Lou didn’t hesitate. As soon as Debbie was in reach, she reached up with her free hand to hold her face steady and laid a long, scorching kiss on Debbie.

For her part, Debbie was powerless to stop it. Not that she wanted to, of course. Her hands reached for any part of Lou that was available: her elbow, her shoulder, finally the short strands of hair at the back of her neck. It didn’t matter that the Market crowds were pushing at them, some annoyed, some a little too entertained. It didn’t even matter that they were surely losing their marks to those two goons who couldn’t devise a plot if one dropped out of the sky and into their wrist comps, not when it was Lou, warm and strong and kissing the very life out of her.

That, of course, didn’t stop Debbie from cursing when they finally broke apart and witnessed those two goons hustling her marks into a dark alleyway for what would no doubt be a far less friendly transaction than Debbie and Lou would’ve treated them to.

She glared at the blonde. “That couldn’t wait?”

Lou shrugged. “Not unless you wanted to have another chat with Frazier about your whereabouts lately.”

Blinking, Debbie arched her neck and caught a glimpse of her family’s favorite investigator, smack dab in the middle of her path. How she’d missed him, she couldn’t say, but she supposed that was what Lou was for.

Well, one of the things.

“We still missed out on a score,” she pointed out.

“Would’ve lost it anyway if you stumbled into Frazier. Besides,” Lou said with a sly grin, her mouth still close enough to brush against Debbie’s jaw and send shivers racing down her spine. “We didn’t totally miss out, did we?” 

Suddenly, Debbie didn’t much care about a lost score.

After all, if you can’t hold it in your hands, right?

“C’mon,” she said, wrapping her arm around the blonde’s waist and turning them back towards the exit.

There was far too much knowing amusement in Lou’s voice to pull off the innocent look she paired with her question: “What about our score?”

Debbie was much more successful when she replied, “Pretty sure we can both do that at home.”

Their laughter was swallowed up by the crowd, but that was just fine. It was really just between them anyway.


End file.
